Life’s too long for work.
She’s right.
She’s so fucking right. His clothes are off, and he’s back in the bed within a minute, with her. ‘Do you like mornings yet?’ he says.
‘I like them with you.’
Ryan’s been up all night, for the third night in a row. He’s finally back home, at his bedsit. He tore his body away from hers today, at almost midnight, feigning tiredness, and came back here, where he has spent the entire night in his kitchen, sitting at the MDF table, making coffee after coffee after coffee.
Jen is all he can think about. Jen – and what to do about Jen. Sleeping with the enemy, I see? Joseph texted him earlier. A crass, reductive text that removed the heart of it all, made it sound like only sex. Ryan stared at it before he replied, trying to figure out what to do.
At 00:59 this morning, he made his decision. He’d forgotten that the clocks were going forwards. 01:00 becomes 02:00, and he has decided.
Quit the police, or lose her.
In the end, he thought, in his shitty little bedsit, fake ID on the table, it wasn’t a decision at all.
He’s waiting underneath the streetlight on the corner of Cross Street, stepping from foot to foot, telling himself he has no choice. None at all. He’s freezing cold, and his hands are shaking with too much adrenalin.
Ryan is in love.
Ryan no longer wants to change the world. Ryan wants to be with Jen. Jen, whose father is a facilitator of the organized-crime group he’s investigating.
Jen, who thinks he’s called Kelly, both parents dead, left school at aged sixteen.
Jen, whose eyes shine like she’s been crying-laughing.
Jen, who said to him, on their first date, that she thought otters were dicks, that she wanted kids, too, that she’s only ever wanted to help people, whose body fits into his like it’s always been there, like it’s part of him. Jen, who says she eats too much, who kisses like she was invented only to kiss him.
Her fucking father. Her father has been supplying Joseph Jones with a list of empty properties which he has used to dispatch foot soldiers to steal the cars. He acted on conveyances of timeshare properties and kept a log of whose week was whose. That is how he knew when people would likely be away, leaving their first home vacant. Such a simple crime, born out of the day-to-day information lawyers have access to.
And now. Ryan drags both hands through his hair, looking up at the sky. He wants to scream, but he can’t.
The man appears. An associate of an associate of an associate. Hopefully far enough removed from Joseph, but who knows.
The stranger is stocky, short, balding. ‘Bag there,’ he says. Ryan might be back on Cross Street, but he’s here for a different reason this time. He passes the stranger the bag of cash.
The man counts the money, then gives him a wolfish smile, passes him a small, crumpled envelope from the back pocket of his jeans. Ryan takes it, and leaves, fuelled only by panic. No backwards glance.
Ryan lets himself into the law firm when he knows Jen is out. Kenneth is there, in his office, and looks up, startled, when Kelly arrives.
‘I need to tell you something and I need you to listen.’
Kenneth swallows, just once. He looks like Jen. The fine bone structure.
‘It never leaves this room,’ Ryan says.
‘Okay.’ Kenneth’s hands shake as he discards the contract he’s reading, turning his attention fully to Ryan. Ryan leans over the desk to shake Kenneth’s hand. His grasp is firm and dry.
‘I’m police. There is going to be an arrest of Joseph any day now. He forms part of a much wider organized-crime ring, but he sits at the top of it, as I’m sure you know.’
‘No – I …’
‘If you tip him off, I will get you banged up.’ Ryan’s never spoken like this before, but needs must. He has to do everything he can to extricate himself.
Kenneth looks at him. ‘What do you want?’
‘Tell me how you came to be involved.’
‘Kelly, I – I never … it started out so easy.’
‘How?’ Ryan folds his arms.
‘I couldn’t pay the bills,’ Kenneth says quietly. ‘I literally couldn’t. We were going to go under. I defended Joseph, years ago, on the civil element of a fraud case. He came in to settle his retainer and he saw the overdue bills. Said he could help. We cooked it up together. I’d act on the sale and purchase of timeshare properties for clients and keep the list of whose week was whose. Then I’d put in a calendar when all these various owners would be at the timeshare, and so not in their houses. It almost always worked. Most of them had two cars, so left one behind: usually the expensive impractical sports car. Only occasionally did they skip their timeshare slot, or give it to someone else. And, if they did, we’d bail. I got ten per cent of the value of the car.’
‘Your actions resulted in a baby being stolen.’
‘I wasn’t – I didn’t know they’d try the next house, too,’ he stutters.
‘You took the proceeds of crime happily.’
‘To pay the bills.’
‘Does Jen know?’
‘God, no,’ Kenneth says, and Ryan thinks he’s telling the truth.
‘She can never know,’ Ryan says. ‘She can never know about you.’
‘No. Agreed,’ Kenneth says crisply.
‘Or about me. I want to – I want to be with her.’
Kenneth blinks in surprise, and Ryan waits, saying nothing. He has a trump card. ‘If you comply, I’ll get you off.’
‘Okay,’ Kenneth whispers. ‘Okay. How do I …’
‘Get rid of your accounts. Burn them. Drown them. Whatever.’
‘I … okay.’
‘Any word – you’re dead to me.’
‘Okay.’
‘Good.’
‘Before you go to be with my daughter,’ Kenneth says, holding his own trump card up, as clear as day. ‘Tell me about you. The real you. And tell me why you want to be with her. Because, if you don’t, I’m happy to fess up, and go down for it. For her.’
‘Just isn’t for me,’ Ryan says in Leo’s office. He’s only seen it a handful of times, was always in his cupboard. Leo’s office, as it turns out, is offensively large. Room enough for two.
‘You know,’ he continues, ‘the lies, the deception. The police generally. I hated Response, and I hate this,’ he says. His voice cracks on the last word, because it isn’t true at all. This is the biggest lie he has told since he lied to Jen about his name. His name and his career, so new, already feel bound together. His total, authentic self, kissed goodbye to. He wonders, if he told Leo the truth, what he’d say. But he can’t risk it. They wouldn’t permit him to live as Kelly. It is their identity, created by them in order to embed Ryan in criminality. These fake identities are destroyed as soon as their purpose is up. To keep it would be to leave the police open to lawsuits, to criminal charges, to retribution from the criminals themselves.
They’d make him come clean. The risk to himself, and to Jen, be damned.
He has no choice. He’s got to get out of the police. He’s got to, before she finds out. She’s become more important than him. That’s love, Ryan supposes. He always knew he’d fall hard one day – he’s that sort of person, isn’t he? He just didn’t think it would happen like this. He has to stay as Kelly.